


baby blåhaj in the deep blue sea

by joshllyman



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, IKEA, M/M, i'm absolutely delighted that that's already a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: “Oh ho ho!” Bokuto exclaims, coming upon the bins of stuffed animals. “What have we here?” He grabs a three foot long shark from the bin and lifts it above his head.“I will literally pay you money to not sing that shark song right now,” Kuroo says as he catches up.Bokuto frowns. “I was gonna do ‘Circle of Life,’ but you’re right, ‘Baby Shark’ would have been better in that moment.”***In which Bokuto brings home far more than he bargained for, Akaashi gets creative, Akaashi gets jealous, and Kuroo lives his best life.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Comments: 36
Kudos: 184





	baby blåhaj in the deep blue sea

**Author's Note:**

> i have a million other things to write but this is what i did instead. i have a blåhaj. he's wonderful.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this without Daichi?” Bokuto asks as they sit upon yet another couch.

“He’s busy, pretty much up until the move,” Kuroo says. He squirms and adjusts himself on the couch. “This really has no fucking cushioning, does it?”

“None at all.” But neither of them make any attempt to move. Other customers move through the IKEA. A few of them eye Kuroo, who’s cuddled into Bokuto’s arms like they’re spending a night at home watching a movie. Bokuto has long stopped caring what others might think of either of them. “But like, it’s his arms you’re going to be cuddling into, so I’m not sure how I’m helping.”

“We’re role-playing, bro,” Kuroo says. When he stands, he arches his arms above his head in a stretch that shows off his midriff. He turns to Bokuto with a quirked brow. “You gotta get in the right headspace.”

“I’m nowhere near responsible enough to role-play Daichi,” Bokuto says. They move to the next couch, a hideous green thing, and resume the position they were in before. “He’s got that firefighter, public service, extremely kind and generous thing going on.”

“You’re extremely kind and generous,” Kuroo offers. “Just, uh. Maybe in different ways.”

“This one wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t imagining baby vomit as I sit on it.”

“Yeah, does it come in other colors?”

It doesn’t, it turns out. They move on. 

“I’m happy for you and Daichi, and everything,” Bokuto says. On this couch Kuroo stretches out with his feet in Bokuto’s lap. “But aren’t you worried it might fall apart or something?”

Kuroo laughs. “Bo, it’s been two and a half years that we’ve been dating now. We’re more than ready to move in together.”

Bokuto purses his lips and thinks back. “Has it been that long?”

“Yes,” Kuroo answers. “You and Akaashi moved in together a few months later.”

“You’re not expecting me to massage your feet here, are you?”

“Too in character, please don’t. Are you sure you’re not just worried because you did it all out of order?”

“What do you mean? Also this one sucks.”

“Hm.” Kuroo rearranges so his head rests against Bokuto’s shoulder. “I mean it’s been almost two and a half years that you and Akaashi have lived together and you still haven’t confessed, and now you’re worried that if you do it will mess everything up.”

Kuroo’s too damn perceptive for his own good. Bokuto gets up suddenly and ignores Kuroo’s squawk of protest as he falls against the arm of the couch. As soon as his ass hits the next couch, he moans.

“Oh, Kuroo, you gotta feel this,” he says, continuing to ignore the other customers in the couch section. “This couch is...it’s exquisite.”

There’s no Akaashi there to confirm his choice of vocabulary, so he’ll have to assume he’s gotten it right. Kuroo joins him and moans his appreciation as he sinks down into the seat.

“Oh, yeah, this is the one,” Kuroo says. “This is the couch Daichi’s gonna fuck me on.”

“Thanks so much for putting that image into my head.”

“You know you like it.”

“Gross.”

The bigger problem is that now that Bokuto has sat upon this couch, he, too, would like to take it home. He imagines it in the living room, in front of the television where their couch is now. He imagines it’s Akaashi curling up next to him instead of Kuroo, and that they’re rewatching  _ Spirited Away _ for approximately the fifty-third time since they moved in together. Akaashi’s head is on Bokuto’s shoulder, and as his eyes inevitably fall closed, Bokuto leans down to press a kiss against the crown of his head…

“You’re doing that weird happy sigh you always do when you think about Akaashi,” Kuroo says, poking him in the side.

Bokuto scowls. “Am not.”

“Whatever, Bo. You were practically drooling.”

“Come on, you’ve got more furniture to pick for defilement.”

Kuroo takes a picture of the tag for the couch with his phone. He won’t be purchasing today, given that his car would fit perhaps one (1) couch cushion inside, but he’ll have the numbers later so that he can order with Daichi. Bokuto waits patiently, or at least he waits, while Kuroo makes sure his phone captured the numbers without blurring. 

“Alright, darling, where to next?” Kuroo says, rejoining Bokuto and linking their arms together.

Kuroo already has a suitable desk and desk chair, so they’re able to skip that section. Bokuto flat out refuses to lay on any mattresses with Kuroo. His role while Kuroo does this is reduced to standing at the end of the bed and reading off prices. 

“Honestly you might be better off somewhere else for a mattress,” Bokuto says as Kuroo flops onto one of the last remaining untried beds. “Oh, you could get one of those fancy beds that has two different comfort settings to it!”

“Those are way too expensive, Bo,” Kuroo says. He sits up on his elbows. “I think you’re right about going somewhere else, though. I’m not sure this is one you can help me with.”

“Honestly? Thank the gods.”

Kuroo smirks. 

They work their way through bedroom storage. Kuroo stares at a closet for a long time, and Bokuto knows he’s thinking of Daichi’s awful “organization system” that mostly involves him digging through big plastic bins for clothes. Bokuto knows Kuroo’s thinking it’s too expensive, but he snaps a picture anyway as Kuroo wanders away. He’ll have to talk to Daichi about it.

Kuroo is furrowing his brows at a dresser when Bokuto passes him. He continues on, no longer interested in the furniture when he sees the next section they’ll come to.

“Oh ho ho!” Bokuto exclaims, coming upon the bins of stuffed animals. “What have we here?” He grabs a three foot long shark from the bin and lifts it above his head.

“I will literally pay you money to not sing that shark song right now,” Kuroo says as he catches up.

Bokuto frowns. “I was gonna do ‘Circle of Life,’ but you’re right, ‘Baby Shark’ would have been better in that moment.”

Kuroo pats him on the back. “I know you too well, friend. Put the shark down and let’s go.”

Bokuto considers it a mark of his maturity that he doesn’t thrust a second shark into Kuroo’s hands and challenge him to a duel. Rather, he stuffs his own plush under his arm and marches through the rest of the kids’ section.

“You’re not really buying that, are you?” Kuroo asks as they descend the stairs into the marketplace.

“I’m not  _ buying _ him, I’m  _ adopting _ him,” Bokuto corrects. “And what do you care, it’s not going home to your apartment.”

“Do you think Akaashi will approve?” Kuroo asks.

Bokuto suddenly becomes very interested in the cheap kitchen towels. His arm wraps a little tighter around the shark.

“Your problem,” Kuroo says, throwing his hands up as he walks away. 

“It’s not like we’re dating!” Bokuto shouts after him.

Several people turn and glare at him.

“We’re not,” Bokuto says defensively, and then he hurries after Kuroo.

***

The shark, who really needs a name so Bokuto doesn’t have to keep calling him “the shark,” is sitting opposite him on the couch when Akaashi lets himself into their apartment after work that evening.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi!”

“Hello, Bokuto,” Akaashi greets. At some point in the last two years, Bokuto had finally convinced him to drop the honorific. Akaashi walks behind the couch and toward the bedrooms. He’s halfway there when he stops and turns around.

“Baseball game’s on tonight,” Bokuto says, not taking his eyes from the pre-game commentary. “And dinner’s just about ready.”

“Can you please explain what’s on my couch?”

“I think we split it, didn’t we?” Bokuto says, although he really can’t recall. He looks at Akaashi, whose eyes are glued to the shark. 

“That’s hardly the point.”

“It’s...it’s a  _ blåhaj _ ,” Bokuto says. He smiles. 

“Please tell me you didn’t buy that thing,” Akaashi says.

Bokuto frowns. “I thought you didn’t like it when I lied to you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi sighs, but Bokuto thinks he sees a slight upturn to his lips. He’s not really mad, then. 

“You didn’t spend an exorbitant amount, did you?” Akaashi asks, his voice fading away as he goes to put his stuff down in the bedroom.

“Exorbitant?”

“Excessive,” Akaashi calls, raising his voice so he can be heard.

“Oh, good word!” Bokuto files it away for later use. “No, not at all. Unless you ask Kuroo. He’ll say it wasn’t worth the time we waited in line. I did buy him a corn dog while we waited, so I guess if you add that into the cost…”

“More or less than three thousand yen?”

“Oh! Less.”

“Alright.” Akaashi comes back out in pajamas. Bokuto’s always wondered how he changes so quickly. Akaashi takes the shark into his arms and sits in its place, tucking his feet up under Bokuto’s thigh. “What are you cooking?”

“Sukiyaki,” Bokuto answers. “It’s got a few more minutes.”

“Hm.” Akaashi rests his head on the armrest and closes his eyes. Bokuto mutes the television and looks over.

“Long day?”

Akaashi nods. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another, you know. Just how it is before deadlines.”

“Need me to do anything?”

Akaashi lifts his head and smiles at Bokuto, just a small thing, but it caresses his lips perfectly and it makes Bokuto’s heart race a little bit. “No, that’s alright. Dinner and baseball sounds good to me.”

“Okay. Furuya’s supposed to be pitching tonight.”

“He’s always one of my favorites to watch.”

***

Bokuto doesn’t give a lot of thought to the still-nameless shark when he hefts Akaashi, who’s fallen asleep on the couch, into bed later that night. The shark stays on the floor where he’s fallen out of Akaashi’s arms. In fact, he kind of forgets about the whole thing until a couple days later.

Akaashi’s got an early morning at work, so when Bokuto comes out of his bedroom, yawning and rubbing at his eyes, he’s a little shocked to find the shark sitting at the table.

Wearing a tiny cowboy hat.

With a cup of tea in front of him.

“Huh,” he says out loud. There’s no note or anything, but unless they have a very specific type of freaky burglar, it has to have been Akaashi who set him up like that. The thought of it brings laughter bubbling up out of Bokuto’s chest: Akaashi, finding or crafting the hat, stringing it around the shark so it sits just in front of his fin, and leaving the leftovers of his tea for the shark to enjoy.

He snaps a picture, uploads it to his Instagram, and goes about the rest of his morning routine.

By the time he checks his Instagram again during a break in afternoon practice, he’s already up to a hundred thousand likes, which—he swipes back through to confirm—yeah, none of his photos have ever done that well before. Not even the super thirst trap-y ones he’d posted after finals last year when he was still all sweaty and shit. There are thousands of comments, most of which just say “IKEA SHARK” with a varying number of exclamation points. 

“Look at this,” he says to whoever’s closest, which happens to be Hinata. He comes bounding over. 

“Oh, IKEA shark!” Hinata says, tapping the screen with his phone and making Bokuto like his own photo. “I didn’t know you had one of those.”

“I just picked it up the other day,” Bokuto says. “Is this one of those memes you and Tsumu are always talking about?”

“I guess so,” Hinata says, scratching his head. He grins. “Did you make that little hat for him?”

“Nah, it was ‘Kaashi.”

“That’s funny. He looks like he’s got good table manners.”

“Shouyou!” Atsumu calls from across the gym. Hinata flips him a little salute and a grin as he jogs over to their setter.

Bokuto looks down at his phone again and sees he’s gotten thirty-seven new notifications in the moment or two he was looking away from his phone. He frowns and turns them off altogether before going back to practice.

***

“Your setup was popular with the Internet,” Bokuto says to Akaashi later that night. 

Akaashi looks up from the nori he’s crunching on. “Huh?”

“With the shark.” He really needs to name this thing. “It’s gotten a ton of likes on my Instagram.”

Akaashi furrows his brows. “I see.”

Akaashi seems upset, but Bokuto can’t quite tell why. His next piece of nori is shoved with quite a bit of force into his mouth, and he eats with a frown directed at the television. When Sawamura pitches out the next batter and the game goes to commercial, Bokuto hesitantly reaches out and touches a hand to Akaashi’s knee.

“Are you okay? You seem...angry.”

Akaashi swallows, and the frown melts away from his face. “Not angry. Sorry, Bokuto. I didn’t mean to look at you like that.”

Bokuto had finally told Akaashi that his faces and moods sometimes mystified Bokuto if there wasn’t a proper amount of explanation somewhere in the last six months or so. Akaashi had apologized profusely and worked hard to do a better job of not brooding too much without explaining what he’s thinking, at least when Bokuto’s around. 

“Sorry,” Bokuto says, his face reddening. “I just assumed...when I said about the picture.”

“Bokuto.” Akaashi looks up at Bokuto and cocks his head a bit to one side. “Did it make you happy? The shark’s little hat?”

“It did,” Bokuto admits. “I kept giggling about it all day.”

“Then it’s fine,” Akaashi says. He squeezes the hand on his knee once. The game comes back on, and Akaashi’s attention goes back to the television and the bag of nori in his lap.

Bokuto can’t quite shake it from his mind, though, and he’s still thinking about it when he finally pulls himself off the couch and goes to bed later that night.

***

He decides somewhere between sleeping and waking that even though Akaashi wasn’t quite mad  _ at _ him, he was mad about something. Bokuto thinks of several ways he could go about potentially improving Akaashi’s day, which vary from “good, but bland idea” (extra breakfast) to “really, really bad idea” (adopt a puppy). As he’s cracking an extra egg, he sees the nameless shark, still sitting at the table, and has a stroke of inspiration.

When Akaashi comes through the kitchen a bit later, his hair wet and messy and his eyes dull with leftover exhaustion, the shark is attached to the end of a rope, which is attached to the end of a long stick Bokuto had found with a quick run out the front door, and the stick is in Bokuto’s hands. 

“Woah!” Bokuto says, careful not to be too loud (Akaashi likes it quiet in the mornings). “Got a hell of a bite here, ‘Kaashi! Help me drag ‘im in!”

Akaashi’s lips quirk upward. He comes around behind Bokuto and wraps his arms around Bokuto’s waist—ha, maybe Bokuto didn’t think this through all the way—and puts his hands on top of Bokuto’s. 

“One, two, three!” Bokuto yanks back and the shark goes flying through the air. Akaashi catches him easily in one hand and smirks. 

“What has Shark-san done to you, to cause you to treat him this way?” Akaashi asks, shoving the plush in Bokuto’s arms.

“Shark-san?” Bokuto questions.

Akaashi furrows his brows. “Unless he had a different name.”

“No, no,” Bokuto says quickly. “I hadn’t named him at all. Couldn’t come up with anything. Guess I was overthinking it.”

“I guess so,” Akaashi agrees. He looks at their bowls, placed on the counter. Bokuto had been waiting for Akaashi and hadn’t started his own. “Did you make me extra breakfast?”

“Work’s been rough lately, and you seemed a little off last night…”

Akaashi ducks his eyes. When he meets Bokuto’s eyes again, his face is slightly flushed. He reaches up and touches Bokuto’s cheek. “Thank you, Bokuto. I don’t quite deserve your goodness.”

“Of course you do!” Bokuto says, determined not to let his embarrassment show in his face. “You’re great, Akaashi!”

Akaashi shakes his head and takes the bowl from the counter. Whatever was bothering him the night before seems to have passed, and Bokuto always delights in a job well done.

The picture does pretty well on Instagram, too.

***

It goes back and forth like this for several weeks. One morning, Bokuto comes out to a whole tea party, featuring Shark-san in the place of honor and various other toys and plushies pulled from various places in the apartment to fill the rest of the table. That one doesn’t do quite as well on Instagram as the one he posts the next morning, of Shark-san on his back on the floor with an empty bottle of sake in his fins. Akaashi manages to one-up him with the mini luau Shark-san throws a few days later, complete with leis bought from the local party store. It takes Bokuto several days to think of something that could even attempt to top that, and even then he’s not sure he’ll ever quite get there. But Hinata inspires him, so Shark-san goes on his morning run with him. He gets his picture taken with the Tokyo Tower, sunglasses over his little beaded eyes. He sends it to Akaashi with a flurry of plane, train, and automobile emojis. 

He spends the rest of the day wondering if it made Akaashi smile.

>> _ seems like you’re having fun with that shark _ , Kuroo messages later in the day.

>> _ kaashi was okay with it then? _

<< _ actually the dressing up was his idea. we’ve been trading back and forth with it _

>> _ you tell him you love him yet? _

Bokuto just scowls at his phone and tucks it away.

***

“Kuroo and Sawamura move this weekend, right?” Akaashi asks from the couch that night. He’s got one arm thrown over his eyes and the other curled around Shark-san. 

“Yep! Told ‘em we’d be there bright and early on Saturday.”

“I hate that.”

“Migraine again?”

“Yes.”

“You took the special meds?”

“I did.”

Bokuto goes into the bathroom and finds the little heating pad they keep under the sink. After he throws it in the microwave, he turns and leans back against the counter.

“If you’re not feeling well, you can stay home, you know,” he says. “How many days has it been like this?”

Akaashi frowns. “I should be fine by Saturday.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“You’ve learned too much from me.”

“I thought you’d be proud of me.”

“I am, Bokuto.”

The microwave beeps. Bokuto retrieves the heating pad and crosses over to the couch. He gently takes Akaashi’s arm away from his face and replaces it with the heating pad. The tension seeps out of Akaashi immediately. Bokuto smiles softly, glad he could help. As he starts to walk away, Akaashi grabs his hand.

“Bokuto…”

Bokuto bites his lip and looks down at where they’re connected. “Yeah, Akaashi?”

Bokuto watches as Akaashi’s chest rises and falls, long, even breaths. His eyes have always been his biggest giveaway for his thoughts, and with those covered Bokuto can’t read what he’s thinking. Bokuto waits, and waits. His hand starts to get sweaty, but still he waits.

Akaashi’s hand slips out of Bokuto’s.

“Nevermind,” he says.

Bokuto swallows. “Okay.”

***

Akaashi does, in fact, feel better by Saturday, although it doesn’t make him any less grumpy at being awoken before ten.

He’s wearing a deep frown on his face the whole way over to Kuroo’s old apartment, even though Bokuto stops to get them both iced coffees on the way. Bokuto wants to check and make sure he really is feeling better, but Akaashi wouldn’t lie to him about that, he hopes. They’re both truthful with each other, except for Bokuto’s whole being-in-love-with-him thing. That’s an exception to the rule. 

Daichi wraps them both in a hug when they arrive (and damn, Sawamura Daichi might just give the best hugs of all time) and thanks them profusely for their help. He draws Akaashi into a conversation about something he’s been reading, and Bokuto pulls Kuroo aside.

“Akaashi seems a little off this morning,” he says quietly, his eyes flickering to where Akaashi and Daichi are. Akaashi’s nodding along as Daichi speaks, not saying much himself, but he looks a little less miserable than before. “Might be best not to rile him up.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kuroo says.

Bokuto’s eyes find Kuroo; he’s smirking, because of course he is. “Just don’t bug him, okay? Work has been hell for a few weeks now and something’s been bothering him but he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“I can’t imagine what it might be,” Kuroo says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Bokuto sighs. “I’m sure it’s not that.”

“You could just  _ ask. _ ”

“Not gonna do that. Let’s get moving, shall we?”

The packing is done already, so it’s just a matter of moving the boxes onto the truck, and they’re three former volleyball players and one current volleyball player. It takes next to no time at all to get it all done. Daichi drives the moving truck and Kuroo drives his own car and Bokuto and Akaashi go in Bokuto’s car to the new apartment. Bokuto turns on pop music and hums along as quietly as he can. He thinks he catches Akaashi’s gaze on him out of the corner of his eye once, but it’s gone before he can be sure.

The trouble arises once they’ve unloaded the moving truck. It’s mid-afternoon and they should probably stop for lunch—Bokuto’s stomach has been growling for a bit now, but Kuroo and Daichi want to get as much done as possible before they sit down. They’re all crammed into the bedroom sorting out Daichi’s terrible clothes tubs and sticking them on hangers in the closet (Bokuto had talked Daichi into it with no trouble). 

“Where did you get that shark you’ve been posting on your Instagram?” Daichi asks innocently, looking over to the closet from the bed.

“Oh, I picked that up at IKEA,” Bokuto answers. From here he can see Akaashi’s face growing darker and darker. “Akaashi’s been doing most of the good creative work though! He did the cowboy hat, and the luau, and the tea party…”

“That one at the Tokyo Tower made me laugh,” Daichi says. 

“Ah, Hinata inspired that one,” Bokuto admits.

“Can we stop talking about this?” Akaashi asks quietly.

All three of them turn to him. 

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto says, but he’s not quite sure what he’s apologizing for. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi interrupts. “Just. Anything but that.”

“You know, I’m really hungry,” Kuroo says suddenly. “Daichi, come out here and help me find those takeout menus you stashed away.”

“What takeout menus?” Daichi asks, but Kuroo drags him along anyway, and soon Bokuto and Akaashi are alone in the room. Bokuto tosses the shirt he’d been holding onto the bed. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Bokuto asks.

Akaashi sighs. “No, no, you didn’t. I think Kuroo’s right, I’m probably just hungry.”

“Are you sure?” Bokuto asks. He’s fretting, because Akaashi is almost never upset without cause, and he’s been weird for weeks, and Bokuto’s certain he has something to do with it…

“Let it go, Bokuto,” Akaashi says. There’s a warning tone in his voice that Bokuto hears but ignores.

“I don’t understand why you’re upset,” Bokuto says, and apparently that’s the wrong thing, because Akaashi turns on him.

“Everyone on Instagram thinks you’re so goddamn cute, Bokuto, I can’t stand it!”

Bokuto furrows his brows. “What are you talking about?”

“Your comments section!” Akaashi yells. “You’ve been getting comments for weeks about how sweet you are, how cute and funny, and it’s making me insane!”

Bokuto hasn’t seen any comments that have said that, but—”I turned my notifications off after the first photo,” he says, “because it blew up so much. But I don’t get it, ‘Kaashi. Do you not think I’m sweet or funny?”

“Of course I think those things!” Akaashi runs a hand through his hair, and he looks more frazzled than ever. “But I don’t think them because of a stupid shark plushie, Bokuto, I’ve thought them all along!”

Bokuto furrows his brows.

“And I wasn’t ever doing it because I wanted someone else’s approval, anyway. I was doing it because you said it made you happy.”

“It does make me happy?” Bokuto says, still confused.

And then, as Akaashi goes to open his mouth again, a lightbulb goes off in Bokuto’s brain. Less like a lightbulb and more like a neon sign, because he definitely should have seen this before.

Akaashi is  _ jealous. _ Of the  _ Internet. _

Because he  _ likes Bokuto. _

“I like you!” Bokuto exclaims, cutting Akaashi off mid-syllable.

Akaashi blinks.

“An...exorbitant amount.”

Akaashi blinks again.

“...did I use ‘exorbitant’ correctly?”

Akaashi finally unfreezes. “You did.”

They stare at each other for several seconds, which last an eternity as far as Bokuto’s concerned. Then Akaashi huffs, murmurs “fuck it,” and crosses the room to throw himself into Bokuto’s arms.

Bokuto is practiced at catching Akaashi, but less so at kissing him, and doing both at the same time turns out to be trickier than anticipated. They go tumbling onto the floor and their mouths sort of crash together in a way that’s less romantic and more painful. Still, now Akaashi’s on top of him and there’s a fire blazing in his eyes that Bokuto recognizes as determination as he leans down and presses his lips to Bokuto’s.

This second kiss—if the first attempt could be called a kiss—works out much better. Akaashi’s mouth is hot against his own, and there’s sweat gathering above his lip from the work they’ve been doing. Bokuto grabs Akaashi’s waist to hold him steady, and Akaashi moans quietly against him. Bokuto thinks it’s the most wonderful sound he’s ever heard.

“We ordered pizza!” Kuroo announces, coming back into the room. 

Akaashi and Bokuto both look up at him from their position on the floor. He smirks, because of course he does.

“Never thought you kids would make it,” he says. “Don’t fuck in my apartment before I get to christen it. I’ll shout when food’s here.”

The door shuts behind him. Bokuto and Akaashi look back at each other, and Bokuto finds himself grinning.

“I like you, too, by the way,” Akaashi says, and Bokuto smiles all the more. 

“I figured that out when you attacked me with your mouth.”

“Attack is a strong word.”

“Wanna do it again?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

***

The bed is empty besides himself when Bokuto wakes the next morning, but the smell of coffee reaches him in bed. He wanders out into the kitchen in just his pajama bottoms, wraps his arms around Akaashi’s waist, and kisses his cheek.

“You’re up early,” Bokuto comments. “Two days in a row?”

“Inspiration struck,” Akaashi says. He turns his face so he can kiss Bokuto’s mouth. “Good morning.”

Bokuto hums his contentment against Akaashi’s lips and then goes to pour himself some coffee. It’s a long moment before he sees Shark-san, sitting in the chair across from Akaashi, with human-looking legs made out of cardboard attached to his bottom half.

Bokuto stares.

“Behold, a man,” Akaashi says, sipping from his own mug.

Bokuto looks at Shark-san, and then back at Akaashi.

“I think there’s a joke here, but I don’t quite get it,” he admits.

Akaashi smiles. “That’s alright. It’ll do well on Instagram.”

And it does.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks as always to my team  
> title is sort of from baby beluga by raffi  
> socials at joshllyman.carrd.co


End file.
